Thursday, July 22, 2010

Psychiatrists are weird. I've been going to my primary care doctor for over four years now and I could never get her to put me on Xanax for my weird anxiety attacks. I spend 14 minutes on a couch with some phychiatrist that has never laid eyes on me before that moment and I walk away with a prescription for Prozac every morning and Xanax twice a day. Whatever, I won't pretend to understand the medical field and all its weird rules...it just seems odd to me, that's all.

He said the Prozac might help as an appetite suppressant, which would be great, but I'm definitely not putting all my eggs in that basket. I still need to get my ass back on track. I need to care JUST enough to make me wanna change things for the better. In the past month and a half, I totally gave up on myself. My will to live was totally broken, and I just want it back. I don't think it's so much to ask. Hopefully these weird shiny blue pills will help. If they don't, I'll have to find another way. I just need something to work. Giving up sucks.

Also, in the past few weeks, I've met three new doctors and they've all told me the same thing. "Have you ever thought about gastric bypass? I really think it could help you." Then they sit there with some smug "EUREKA!" sense of satisfaction on their face like they just cured this fattie. Hmm, gastric bypass, EH? Never heard of it, doc. Of course I've THOUGHT about it. You think there's a person waddling around at my size who hasn't thought about it like every day of their life?? I THINK about it all the time. My insurance WON'T cover it. It's not even an option. I've already cried that river.

And when I say it's NOT an option, I mean some dude in a suit decided that I don't get that option...so I don't. But then they always pipe up about how it could really "change my life." And they start telling me how I should consider "just paying for it." Yeah, okay. Look, dude, we'll both be lucky if that check I wrote you for 40$ even clears the bank, so let's have a quick reality check before you assume I can just plunk down $30,000 for something. My credit sucks and I wrote on your extremely extensive list of questions that a lot of my anxiety stems from financial problems, so let's just take those champagne wishes and cavier dreams down a peg or two.

I understand they're only trying to help, and I know my anger stems from bitterness over red tape bullshit that I can't even cut with a shiny new Ginsu knife (THAT CAN CUT THROUGH ALUMINUM CANS!!) It's just hard for me to open myself up for therapy and I'm trying REALLY hard and it's like "oh, your self esteem problems probably stem from your weight...that'll be $265." I know a lot of it is just snap judgements and that over time, it might, and probably will, get better. So for now I'm giving it the benefit of the doubt...and it's a really huge boulder of doubt, but still. I'll try to keep you guys posted.

And who knows? Maybe one day I'll blog about something that isn't therapy-related. Keep hope alive.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

So tonight's the night, guys. Time to go see the psychiatrist and see if he thinks I'm as crazy as my therapist does. The more I think about my life, the more I realize that maybe I DO have some weird chemical imbalance that makes me think all the bad shit in the world should happen to me and only me. When I hear about happy or successful people dying, that voice in my head always pipes up "it should have been me, I'm not doing shit with my life." Do other people think this way?

It's not like I think he's gonna give me some pill and I'm gonna wake up tomorrow all happy and sunshiney and ready to take on the world. A pill that can make me eat right, exercise, organize my house, wanna have sex, not hate myself AND learn to save money? Doubtful. BUT...if it can make me stop feeling like all the terrible things that happen in the world are somehow my fault, that would help a lot.

I really appreciate all the comments and encouragement you guys have been giving me. I know I've been lackluster at best at staying connected during this unexpected turn towards shittiness in my life, so really, it means a lot to me to see you guys weathering this shitstorm with me. I rarely expect people to care about my life (shocker?), but it's nice to know that people do.

To change the subject a little, in some vain attempt to actually move my ass off the couch, I decided to go swimming Sunday afternoon at Jeff's sister's house. Well, "swimming", because I still don't know how to swim, but kicking my legs around in the water and wrestling 5 kids off my back for a couple hours is still pretty good exercise for someone like me. For the last 3 days, my legs have been freaking SORE AS HELL. How sad! How out of shape do you have to be to get leg cramps from essentially floating? Sigh.

I thought maybe I could start going over there a few times a week if they'd let me because the swimming pool at my apartment complex is super crowded every day since school's out and it seems like everyone living here has at least 3 kids running around pissing me off. I always check the pool when I get home from work in the hopes that maybe it'll be empty enough for me to dare showing my hyper-white legs and homemade swimsuit, but nope...Kid Soup every fucking day. Oh well...at least one day those little jerks will have to go back to school. So suck on that.

Summer sucks, man. I was all hyped up to have this be the summer that I was gonna beat the heat and lose weight and brave the 120 degree weather to go hike and shit and say "fuck you, sun!" But so far that shit has NOT been the case. You win this round, global warming.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Had therapy again yesterday. She gave me this workbook to do to assess my depression, and apparently, it's severe. Although I can't imagine taking those stupid tests and ending up with anything less than severe. Maybe I'm just crazy to think that everyone's at least a little depressed. The world is pretty sucky, especially lately, and if you're walking around with some perma-smile just loving life, then maybe YOU'RE the weird one.

Or maybe I'm just a downer...who's to say?

Anyway, I finally realized that if there's some drug out there that can make me not be sad, I want to take it. I dunno why I fought it for so long. So I was all geared up to start some new happy-pill-regimin today, but she didn't even prescribe me anything! She said I need to see a psychiatrist first? Stupid me, I thought that's what SHE was.

So now I gotta wait until next Wednesday to go see some dude to see if I should take pills, even though she already told me I should. Makes no sense to me, but then again, I'm clearly crazy, people.

I already feel a little better, though I don't think it's because of therapy. As soon as I see that lady's face, I start crying. Turns out I have a lot of daddy issues...no surprise there. But at least my days seem a little brighter lately. Still eating like a cow though. That part sucks. My jeans are so damn tight...the doctor asks if I ever think about suicide and I wonder if she means about how I stop breathing when I zip up my jeans? If that counts, then yes, all the time.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Okay, this isn't Tricia. I am like Tricialite. I'm 80% less funny, and 70% more likely to laugh at people. Who am I? My boss likes to call me "Dinalicious" but seeing as that makes me homicidal, I don't recommend it.

I do have a point to posting. I know Tricia sorta well, but I do know something she thinly veils. She friggin LOVES presents. Like if you send her a card with some stickers. Or a mix CD with "Tricia + Stinkynutz 2gether 4 ever" and put Boyz 2 Men and Slipknot on it. So, if you want to buy her way out of her funk, comment here with a way for me to get your email, and if I deem you uncreepy enough (or creepy but too lazy to drive to where she lives and slash her up) I will send you her address and you can cheer her up.

P.S. I think she is just on this therapy kick because she is trying to copy Ruby.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Just in a weird place. I started therapy on Tuesday and I was 25 minutes late due to some asshole customer I couldn't get off the phone before my lunch break. Therefore I only got like a 20 minute session, but I still cried. Talking about me makes me cry. It's weird to hate yourself so much. Not to mention the fact that I'm sitting there crying my eyes out and I start to feel worse because I feel like this therapist is probably thinking 'what the fuck am I getting myself into' after she asked me like 3 questions and I started bawling. Ugh.

Which is the reason I need therapy to begin with...because I'm paying like 200 bucks an hour and I feel bad that she has to listen to my story. I just wanna know why I hate myself so much. It's so hard to wanna take the steps to save my life when I can't even pretend that my life is worth saving. I dunno how it got so dark so fast...it feels like a month ago, I was happy.

Either way, I'm not dead.

I don't like to blog the depressing shit, you guys know that.

I'm pretty sure she wants me on drugs. I don't really know if that's what I want. I don't even like to have more than two drinks a night and now I'm supposed to be okay with being on some constant mind-altering drug? Just not sure if I'm ready to resort to that yet.